Sometimes we call you that, Baby Bee, among plenty of other ridiculous and equally embarrassing cutesy names too. No matter what we name you, I think you'll always be our Baby Bee. The first in our hive. Newsflash to mom and dad: you're hardly a little bee anymore. At 22 weeks all the pregnancy books say you weigh nearly one whole pound. Hard to imagine you were ever that microscopic blastocyst introduced to us in the fertility lab. You are now a constant part of my every day, we are officially a party of two, where everything about me has suddenly become about we.
I love feeling your every move. There is really nothing like it in the world. Just this morning in the parking garage I couldn't quite bring myself to go inside and run the risk of interrupting the boxing match you had begun. Each little kick and somersault you make quietly reassures me that you are there and reminds me that life for both of us is ever changing. I find my hands are more and more comfortable resting on my belly, sometimes I don't even realize I'm rubbing it. Or I'll catch myself swaying side to side if I happen to be thinking about you. I've always wondered why pregnant woman do silly things like that. Now I know.
Your father has started to feel you move too, which is all very exciting. I wish you could see the way his eyes light up when he feels you kicking. The first thing he wants to do when he gets home is peel through the layers of my clothes so he can see you up close. For some unknown reason he finds the full panel maternity pants to be uproariously hilarious. This coming from someone who wears full body spandex. "I need to see my baby girl," he'll request and then press a whiskered cheek to my stomach. He continues to be fascinated by all these sudden changes to my body, especially my protruding belly, which every day seems to poke out a little bit further. No doubt, a good sign you are making yourself right at home in there. And just because he knows it'll warrant an overreaction from me, he loves to stick a wiggling finger right into my belly button claiming that's how he is able to be closest to you. I roll my eyes of course, but in truth I couldn't be happier that he is infatuated with you. With us. I certainly can't argue with his intentions.
Often at night when we are winding down in bed and talking about our days, I turn on a Mozart playlist on my iPhone and let it rest on top of my baby bump. We pretend to think this is going to make you a brilliant genius. In fact, we have countless hopes and dreams for you. But I won't tell you what they are. You will have hopes and dreams all your own, and those are the ones you should follow. Although, I know it wouldn't hurt your dad's feelings if you happen to love a good road trip. I certainly wouldn't mind if you developed a penchant for taking long Sunday naps snuggled with me.
In so many ways this pregnancy is moving all too quickly. I often wonder if I am enjoying it enough, or appreciating this moment knowing that the three of us will never have it again. Everything about pregnancy continues to mystify me, even I catch glimpses of my belly in the mirror and think, who is this pregnant woman? One thing I do know through all the blood, sweat, and tears: it's been well worth the fight. Happy to have you on board here my little one, our precious Baby Bee.